


Experimentation, John!

by MossyEmeraldSH



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Bottom John, Gay, Gay Sex, Kink Meme, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Sherlock, Top!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9403067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossyEmeraldSH/pseuds/MossyEmeraldSH
Summary: "Sherlock, you can't just leave them there without an explanation!"Ah, John Watson; a Military doctor formerly deployed in Afghanistan, "not Sherlock's date," and Sherlock's gaurdian angel."Expirementation, John. I can only do it here."On the other hand, we have Sherlock Holmes; a prick that knew just how to push John's buttons, "a high-functioning sociopath," and a bloody genius.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's a two-shot. Being said, smut in chapter 2~ Nothin' else to say. 
> 
> "Brace yourselves for godlike writing" ~President Bush probably.

\- 

"Sherlock, you can't just leave them there without an explanation!"

Ah, John Watson; a Military doctor formerly deployed in Afghanistan, "not Sherlock's date," and Sherlock's gaurdian angel.

"Expirementation, John. I can only do it here."

On the other hand, we have Sherlock Holmes; a prick that knew just how to push John's buttons, "a high-functioning sociopath," and a bloody genius.

"How the hell is the Sco-"

"Shhhh John, I'm thinking."

"I don't know how, but you managed to already give me a headache. Fucking hell!"

Closing the door behind himself and Sherlock, John hung his plain coat neatly next to the hung trench coat now beside it. Baring his feet from their captors, he paced to his chair, the one he first sat in and claimed. 

Verdigris eyes followed the movement of the other as the owner's mind went through carefully planned steps.

Turning away from his unwilling victim, he rounded the corner into the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot that John usually used to make loose-leaf tea with and set it up so that it'd be done soon.

However, not wasting any time, he rummaged through kitchen drawers, looking for the sleeping pills John sometimes had to force on him for medical purposes. "Sherlock, you need to sleep, it's been days," and "Sherlock, I swear, get some sleep. I'm telling you as your doctor, not your friend," and other statements along those lines.

Hand towel, folded unneatly, must have been a quick exchange. Taking the offending item out of the drawer, he found exactly what he was looking for. Taking out two pills, he replaced the towel, closing the encasement. "John, I'm doing an experiment, don't come in here." The walls of the kitchenette muffled the scoff from the living area, obviously another way of saying "Wouldn't dream of it."

He dropped the drug into a small plastic bag that he had only previously grabbed from a different drawer next to him. Sealing the bag, the detective grabbed a glass, knowing it'll have to do. Smashing the pills to little grains and dust, Sherlock watched the coffee pot with the patience he did not have. Of course, the case ran through his mind.

  Young male, 25, tied up and unclothed. A possible sexcapade gone wrong? No, highly doubtful. Only fluids of the victim were on or around the male  or the bed. Restrictions of the rope kept the victim from getting the killer's DNA under his nails and no DNA of the killer was found anywhere else. Criminal likely male, as the victim's dating app- 

Coffee pot.

It was quick, emptying the contents into the cup and mixing in sugar to mask any taste, he left the silverware on the counter. John would clean it up anyway. He always did. But that didn't matter at the moment. Sherlock tapped his fingers lightly against the fake granite before lifting the cup into his hand.

He set it down gently on the varnished, Cherrywood  table in front of his partner before sitting down near. A trap set by Sherlock, but a silent apology for John. Or at least John thought so. Heterochromatic orbs met heterochromatic orbs before the retired doctor figured 'to hell with it' and gave into the bait, or well, excuse me, 'apology.'

The doctor lifted the cup to his chaste lips, allowing a small sip of the hot liquid to escape down his throat, almost surprised by the taste. Swallowing, he looked at the other. "For a bloody good detective, I'd think you'd know I don't use sugar in my tea." His mind instantly flashed to the case in Baskerville, frowning a little. 

Sherlock rolled those eyes that so many admired, knowing exactly how John preferred his tea. He knew everything about John, a bit intoxicated by the older male actually, he realized, much to his dismay. Because he knew his partner in crime...solving (?) so well, he wasn't surprised that John continued to drink the sweet liquid up as to not be a complete prick. Expected it.

Crossing his legs and lifting his hands into his signature "thinking position," he closed his eyes and went through every possible situation. 

And so...the waiting game is on.

-


End file.
